


sometimes i see an end disguised as a beginning

by xxpaynoxx



Series: tumblr prompts [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, M/M, and princess mechanic is there a lot, it's basically all fluff bc i can't write these two nerds in angst to save my life, murphy is a grumpy barista and bellamy fucks with him a lot, that's what the tv show is for am i right, there's linctavia if u squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 14:50:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4791356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxpaynoxx/pseuds/xxpaynoxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>@johnothanmurphy: Murphamy coffee shop au where Murphy is a lil grumpy barista and Bellamy always comes in at least once a week and orders the most difficult order just to tease the lil grump because bell thinks he's cute</p><p> </p><p>  <em>[title from 'follow you home' by embrace]</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	sometimes i see an end disguised as a beginning

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first murphamy fic, so don't judge me :)

Murphy hates his job.

Well, not really. He hates everything, he just hates his job a little less than everything else. I mean, working as a barista at a coffeeshop wasn’t what he saw himself doing in college (especially since he got into Princeton and he was expecting a bartender job, but he didn’t have the time or patience to listen to drunk stories), but here he was, making coffee and fixing the pastry counter like a typical college kid.

It wasn’t _all_ bad, if he were being honest to himself. He liked the people he worked with. There was Clarke, who was the shop owner and who worked the morning shift in order to write the menus on the chalkboards every day. There was Wells and Monty, who made the pastries and the cupcakes and cake pops in the back, and Murphy will never get over the sight of Wells in his tiny Princeton lacrosse shirt, threatening the bust out of it as he wore a paisley blue apron while squeezing icing onto a cupcake.

Then, there was Octavia Blake, who was partners with Murphy during his shift. She was feisty and always picked a fight with him, but he knew it was all in good nature as she would send him a wink after he’d made a snide remark and look down at the drink she was preparing. That, and he was terrified of her new boyfriend, Lincoln, who looked like a giant biker that had definitely killed someone during his lifetime.

There was Harper, Monroe, and Jasper, who worked after Murphy and Octavia but always came in twenty minutes before to help out. Wells also had a thing for Harper, so that was another reason.

And finally, their ragtag barista squad (directly quoted from Octavia) was rounded out by Clarke’s girlfriend Raven, who didn’t really work there but co-owned the store with Clarke and kept everything running and would fix anything that broke, like that one time Clarke’s sign fell and smashed into the coffee maker, causing Clarke herself to squeal and fall off of the ladder.

Murphy hadn’t laughed that hard before in his life.

It was nice, though, coming in after one of his boring psychology classes and seeing Clarke battle with a customer about how “we don’t have alcohol, this is a _coffeeshop_ , sir”, and he’d brighten up immediately as he donned his green apron and slipped behind the counter, tugging on a lock of Octavia’s brown hair and grabbing a coffee cup to make an order for the annoying customer Clarke had been dealing with.

Yeah, he liked it.

He won’t admit it, though.

\---

The only downside was this one professor who came in every Tuesday and ordered the most complicated order Murphy had ever heard.

He was a professor at a college across town, Rider (Murphy only knew that because he had walked in with a shirt displaying a large siler horse and the name RIDER in big red letters underneath of it), and Murphy hated his guts.

For some reason, he always liked to order the most complicated drinks on a day when Murphy was having a bad day, and he had a hunch it was because he liked watching him fumble around the syrup machine (which Clarke hadn’t even taught him, since “you won’t be needing it”).

The good part is, he always ordered the same complicated drink so Murphy could get a handle on it after a few weeks.

On one particular Tuesday, Murphy had caught Clarke and Raven making out against the counter and Raven’s hand firmly down Clarke’s pants, and Murphy had to growl at them and banish the two of them to the back. Then, Wells had come down with the flu, so it was all Monty with the pastries, stressing over how to make scones just how Wells made them and going off of texts that Wells sent him.

Murphy was already annoyed, and Monty’s constant asking of if the scones tasted good were pushing his buttons.

And that day, the professor showed up. As if by Satan’s magic, according to Murphy.

“What’s up?” Octavia asked as she refilled the cinnamon buns on the counter. Murphy gestured to the rapidly approaching, very attractive individual (but Murphy would never say that to anyone), and Octavia let out a small giggle.

She fucking _giggled_.

_Little shit._

“How can I help you?” Murphy droned, leaning on the counter with the palms of his hands, placing a very dissatisfied and annoyed expression on his face. The man flashed him a white smile, and Murphy tried not to smile back (because _fuck_ , that smile was contagious as hell), and Murphy grimaced as the man rattled off his order.

“Caramel macchiato, venti, skim, with an extra shot. Make it extra-hot, with extra-whip, but sugar-free.”

Murphy punched in the numbers. “Three dollars, please,” he groaned, and the man handed over three crisp one-dollar bills. Murphy rang him up, and gave him his receipt. He thanked him, and Murphy just snorted as he moved across to the syrup machine, pouring the espresso and and milk in as he went.

Finally, after five minutes of trying to find the sugar free whip and caramel (which Clarke had hidden in the back with the baking supplies because they never fucking _used_ that shit), Murphy handed the man his drink.

But not before writing “fuck you” in tiny chicken scratch on the side of the cup.

The man tilted his drink and read the writing, letting out a small laugh and raising his drink to him as he left the shop.

Murphy rolled his eyes and caught Octavia smirking out of the corner of his eyes. “What?” he snapped, and Octavia started laughing. Fucking _laughing_.

“It’s just, you were so _harsh_ , and I guess it was funny because my brother has never been taken like that,” Octavia wheezed, and Murphy froze.

“Your… _brother_?”

“Yep.”

“He’s hot.”

Octavia’s jaw dropped and Murphy’s hands flew to his mouth. “Don’t repeat that to anyone,” he growled, and faltered as she got a look in her eye that sent shivers down his spine.

“What?” Murphy whined, but Octavia didn’t answer as she turned to pay attention to the newest customer, a worried younger girl with brown hair and wide blue eyes as she stammered out her order.

\---

Octavia's brother was back next Tuesday, and the Tuesday after that, and the Tuesday after that.

Murphy finally learned his name, Bellamy (much like belle-amie, he noticed, and he wondered if his mother knew French or something but he didn’t dare ask), and he had resolved to making his order faster and spelling his name in obnoxious ways.

But one day, Bellamy walked in looking disgruntled and ordered a simple caramel macchiato.

Murphy had actually been having a normal day. His psychology class had been engaging for once, with them learning about the human brain and how it worked in an activity they did while hooked up to brain scanners. Murphy wasn’t sure if it was legal, but his professor gave them all a hard stare about it and he didn’t ask.

Murphy couldn't believe his ears when he heard Bellamy’s order, and concern swallowed him as he blinked, unsure that he heard his order correctly.

“ _Just_ a caramel macchiato?” he prompted, and Bellamy grunted in response.

Murphy stopped punching numbers into the register, and pressed his palms into the counter, looking up and actually meeting Bellamy’s eyes for once.

They were a deep brown, like chocolate, and he looked really, _really_ upset.

“Is everything okay?” Murphy asked, and Bellamy shrugged. “School’s just rough, and my fiancé left me,” he said, looking down at his hands. Murphy froze as the receipt chugged out of the register, and tore it off, handing it to him shakily. He took it quietly, and felt the need to say something.

“I’m, uh, sorry,” he stammered, making and handing him his drink quickly (however, he made sure to spell his name right because _he fucking felt bad, okay?_ ). Bellamy shrugged again, taking his drink and drinking a long sip of it. “It’s fine. We didn’t work well together anyway,” he said, and turned around and left.

Murphy looked over at Octavia, who looked unusually quiet this morning. “Hey, what happened with Bellamy?” he asked, and Octavia sighed. “His fiancé, Roma, was seeing someone else at the same time. He didn’t know, and he came home to them doing it in their bed,” she explained.

Murphy bit his lip. “That sucks,” he commented, and Octavia nodded, more to herself than anyone else. “Yeah, he’s a bit upset. Kicked her out and everything, and had all her stuff shipped to her new boyfriend’s house.”

Murphy chewed his bottom lip, looking down at his hands. God, he had a crush on an _engaged man?_ Well, obviously not engaged anymore, which made Murphy feel excited and embarrassed at the same time. Now, he didn’t really feel bad about liking Bellamy.

Apparently, Octavia silently agreed with him, because she pressed one of Wells’ new pastries against his hand and disappeared into the back.

Murphy took a forlorn bite of the pastry, and sighed.

\---

Bellamy hadn’t returned in four months.

Murphy questioned Octavia about it, who only shrugged and said he was probably busy. Clarke had scoffed, saying that Bellamy was never busy (explaining what a _giant fucking nerd_ he was and made Murphy’s crush blow up even bigger because history nerds were his forte), and Raven had punched her shoulder.

They’d ended up making out against the wall, and Murphy forgot about Bellamy for a second as he pried the two off of each other, pushing them into the pantry in the back and making them promise they wouldn’t “hit pound town while customers were here”.

Sometime during the winter, Jasper, Harper and Monroe all came down with food poisoning because of Jasper’s cooking (which Murphy was, apparently, the only one not surprised; I mean, the guy looks high ninety-percent of his life), and Murphy had to cover the closing shift.

As he was wiping the counter down, getting ready to close as Monty and Wells cleaned up the baking station in the back, the doorbell rang.

Murphy looked up, confused, and saw Bellamy walking towards him bundled up in a scarf, sweater, thick jacket, and jeans and boots. He looked like a damn Gucci model, and Murphy’s knees went weak.

“What are you doing here? We’re about to close, you know,” Murphy explained, looking back down at a very insistent white stain on the counter that he was hoping was dried cream (but he wasn’t so sure).

His hands were suddenly covered by a pair of darker ones, and he looked up and jumped a little at how close Bellamy’s face was. He could count every freckle on his perfect face, and his cheekbones bounced the light off his face nicely, making him almost glow under the shitty artificial lighting.

“I, uh, I think I know why Roma and I didn’t work out,” he whispered, looking down at their intertwined hands. Murphy gulped and Bellamy took a step back, reaching one hand up to scratch at the back of his neck.

“I think I’m in love with someone else,” he whispered.

Murphy stared at him in stunned silence

“Well, that person is probably in love with you too,” he finally blurted out, and Bellamy grinned with a white smile that nearly blinded him, moving in quicker than Murphy expected.

His lips were on his in mere seconds.

Murphy had never felt like this in his entire life. He’d had a fling with Mbege, one of Wells’ lacrosse teammates before he transferred to Rutgers, and that had been a fiery relationship. But kissing Bellamy was different.

Bellamy was softer, cupping Murphy’s cheeks as their lips moved together, and Murphy tangled his fingers in his curly hair and smiled against his lips as Bellamy gave a low growl as he tugged on them.

He felt Bellamy’s arms move away from his cheeks to his slim hips, and he hoisted Murphy onto the counter without breaking the kiss (something Murphy knew he was going to question when they finished kissing, if they ever did, which he hoped they wouldn’t).

Bellamy started playing with the hem of his shirt, and his warm fingers danced across Murphy’s stomach, making him shiver. Murphy forced his way into Bellamy’s mouth, his tongue licking across his teeth as he drew Bellamy closer by his hair, forcing him in between his legs.

“Hey, M- _holy shit._ ”

Murphy immediately broke away, leaving Bellamy kissing air for a second before he, too, pulled away, but not too far since Murphy still had his fingers in his hair. Murphy’s head whipped around to catch Monty and Wells staring at him, their jaws slack, and Wells hastily stuffed something back into his pocket.

Then, Monty gave a loud whoop, punching Wells’ shoulder. “Pay up, _laxbro_ ,” he giggled, and Wells fished a ten-dollar bill out of his pocket, shoving it angrily at Monty before stomping away to the baking station in the back.

“Wh-What?” Murphy rasped, feeling the tingle of his lips and knowing for a fact they were probably bright red by now.

“Clarke and Octavia and I had a bet going with Wells and Raven as to how long it would take you guys to jump each other’s bones,” Monty explained excitedly. Murphy’s face went bright red, and he burrowed his nose into Bellamy’s shoulder, muttering “fuck” underneath his breath as he did so.

Monty returned to the baking station in the back, and Murphy felt Bellamy’s chest rumble as he chuckled, pushing him back up so that he could look him in the eye.

“You’re probably wondering why I liked you,” Bellamy began, rubbing the back of his neck. Murphy rolled his eyes. “It was the increasingly annoying misspellings of your name, wasn’t it?” he asked jokingly, and Bellamy shook his head.

“No, I just wanted to see the cute barista fumble over the syrup machine.”

Murphy smacked him, and Bellamy went in for another kiss, laughing.

Murphy let him.

\---

Later, Octavia would growl about how Bellamy _couldn’t have waited one more damn day_ to hitch Murphy, and Bellamy would laugh and Murphy would blush again, hiding behind the syrup machine.

He never ordered the flowery macchiato again.

And Murphy loved his job.

(He explained he didn’t even like coffee, and Murphy had smacked him, asking why he would order a _macchiato with shots in it_ , and Bellamy would shrug, saying he wanted to see if the cute barista could make it.)

(And Murphy would call him a _giant fucking nerd_ , and Bellamy would kiss him to shut him up.)

(Yeah, Murphy loved his job.)

 

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on [tumblr!](http://murhphamy.tumblr.com)


End file.
